


Where Our Worlds Collide

by take_a_bow06



Category: Muse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/take_a_bow06/pseuds/take_a_bow06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. All about Matthew's life was normal.. or that's what he thought. He was trying to live as normal as he could with a secret he had been hiding all his life: He's able to see and communicate with ghosts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! :D I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I do writing it.<3

 

 

He had heard that East Sussex was lovely during the winter, today he could confirm it.

It was early December when he had received a peculiar letter informing him that he was the heir of the only property his uncle, who had died two months ago, owned. He never expected such a thing, he knew very little of his father's brother, and he could count on the fingers of one hand the times he had seen the man. However, to his surprise, his uncle had decided to remember him and give him his only possession.

His first thought was to sell the house; he did not want to evaluate a house he would never live in. His life in London was everything he had dreamed of since he was a teenager and would not leave it aside for a country house in East Sussex.

When he got off the train and the cold wind hit him in the face, he wondered what the hell was he doing there! Trying to remember what impulse had possessed his mind, taking the crazy decision to see the house of his deceased uncle ... now, _his_ house.

When he left the station, he met the man who would take him to Rye. They had spoken a week before; apparently the man had known his uncle for a long time and had been responsible for bringing him the Will and the keys to his new property.

Bernard looked no more than 50 years old, although in the long conversation that they had had days ago, the man said to be hovering around 60. Maybe the Rye life style had that effect.

He approached and shook his hand firmly with Bernard's, greeting him with a tense smile.

“Mr. Bellamy!” Bernard gladly greeted him, squeezing his hand more than he should, “Nice to meet you in person.”

“I’m glad to meet you, too, Mr. Smith” Matt answered, taking his hand back to grip the handles his luggage.

“Oh please, call me Bernard” Answered the old man as he opened the door of his car, inviting him to put his bags in the back seat. “How was your trip?”

“Fairly quiet, I thought it would take longer.”

Bernard started the engine and soon they were on the road to Rye.

During the short trip, he had just observed the landscape blurred by the car window. Rye was a small town situated near the river Rother, the streets were narrow with picturesque old buildings and a church with a clock tower from which it could see the whole town, with snow decorating every street. Sighing, he clung to his jacket. The landscape around stopped moving, indicating that they had reached their destination. Bernard helped him to get his luggage out of the car and they headed to the house.

He stopped in his steps when he first saw the house. He had forgotten to ask Bernard in what year was the house built, although deep down he knew the answer. That town seemed to be frozen in the medieval era and in his short trip from the train station to the house, he hadn’t seen any modern buildings at all.

He hated old buildings.

He sighed and waited for Bernard to take out the keys from his pocket, a thing that was taking a few minutes before he opened the door.

The first thing he noticed when he walked through the door was not the thin layer of dust that covered every piece of furniture, or the smell of snuff stuck on the walls, but the intense energy emanating from that place.

Bernard turned on the lights and left one of Matt’s bags near the fireplace. The ceiling was low and the walls were painted in a pale green. Different chairs were arranged around the fireplace, next to it, a small wooden table with a new package of snuff.

“Harry loved this house,” Commented the man with a faint smile as he watched the place carefully “He used to sit on that chair and smoke half a box” he pointed to a dusty wooden rocking chair by the window.

That explained the smell...

“Harry must have loved you a lot to leave you his precious house. Were you two close?”

“Yes, I used to visit him a lot during the summers” Matt lied; he had only visited him about three times as a child when his uncle lived in London. He’d never been in this house before.

Bernard smiled warmly and took one last look at the house, holding out the keys.

“Well, it's all yours, boy. I'll send the original document in a couple of days, I think that my work then would be completed.”

“Thank you very much, Bernard,” His first thought when he had the keys in his hand was to throw them out of the window and run out of there. “I bet my uncle would be very grateful.”

Bernard nodded, tiredness in his green eyes, when he made his way to the door and his right hand was about to open it, he recoiled back as if, for a moment, he had forgotten to say something important.

“I left them there because they were what Harry used to smoke,” Commented as he pointed to the unopened box of cigars on the wooden table by the fireplace. “You’d think that I am an old man who has lost his mind but ... for some reason, I can feel something in this house, as if the spirit of Harry is still here.”

That was something Matt had to agree with him, but something told him that the presence he had felt since he had crossed the door did not belonged to his dead uncle.

He carefully observed the house, the walls were decorated with different paintings, shelves with books or ceramic plates, the windows were of different sizes, and the wood frames were painted with a darker green, a harmonic tonal contrast followed by a cream curtains with yellow spots covering each one perfectly. Judging by the number of books that were in the room, he could say that his uncle had been an avid reader. different volumes, authors, sizes and colors were perfectly arranged in a green painted library similar to the walls near the fireplace.

The stairs leading to the bedroom were to the left of the main entrance, each step covered with a light brown carpet and on the side wall of the staircase was a framed picture with different types of dried butterflies.

On the second floor, there was a small window that opened to a balcony, illuminating the small corridor and the bedroom door that was painted in white.

His footsteps stopped when he walked through the bedroom door, the energy in there was more intense than in the rest of the house. He breathed deeply and looked from where he was to the rest of the room ....nothing.

The pale green color was repeated again, and he was starting to get sick of that color. there was a fireplace beside the bed, the headboard was a library painted by the same shade of green that painted the window frame.

He could feel that energy permeated in every corner of that room, but something told him that didn’t belong to his uncle ... It was _someone_ else.

He went downstairs, took his wallet, the house keys he had left abandoned on the table and went to town.

It had started to snow when had reach the town. It was about 6 pm and most of the stores had begun to close. In less than 20 minutes, he was at the cash register of the nearest store that he had seen; carrying a basket full of what would be his food the rest of the night and part of tomorrow.

“Are you new here?” He heard a female voice ask, followed by the beep sound of the register.

Matt watched her for a moment, not sure if it was the first or second time the girl in front of him asked that.

“You could say that, yeah.. I will stay here for a few days” He answered with a short smile while fishing his wallet in his left pocket.

“Rye is beautiful in winter, although tourists prefer to come here in spring,” the girl smiled, on her uniform she had a tag with the name _Jessica_ on it, “You already have a hosting?”

“Yes, in fact, I'm staying in the house on the outskirts of ...”

“Harry Bellamy?” Interrupted the girl, her hand stopped halfway to grab the cash he had handed out her.

“He was my uncle”

“I'm so sorry for your loss” Said Jessica; her face was shut down while counting the money. “Mr. Bellamy was loved here, he liked to help everyone."

Matt nodded, not sure how to answer that, it was little the information he had of his deceased relative. Deep down, it hurt to know him that the people of the town knew his uncle better that he did.

“Hope you'll enjoy your stay in Rye” The cashier said with a smile as she closed the register.

“Thanks, have a good evening”.

Although night had fallen sooner than he had imagined, the walk back to the house had been faster than expected. It took a few seconds to figure out which key opened what door and he was relieved when he finally had managed to find some shelter in the not so warm home.

He left the bags on the kitchen table, opting only for a cup of tea and some biscuits. Going to one of his bags, he took out his laptop and placed it on a small table for four near two windows, once his laptop was on, tried his luck with wi-fi.

Nothing.

Looking for the tea and biscuits, he sat down at his computer and began working on the monthly article for the magazine where he worked. He had studied literature in college and got a job in an art magazine, being in charge of the section of literature with two other colleagues.

He closed the laptop and checked his watch with blurry eyes. It was 11:35 pm and he wondered at what point the time had passed so quickly. On his way to the stairs, he placed the empty mug in the sink, dragging one of the suitcases with him.

When he reached the room, he still could feel the strange energy, despite his tiredness; he could feel he was not alone there.

He managed to uncover some plaid pants and a sweater to survive the night as the heater didn’t work and the chimneys were practically useless for now.

The bed sheets were white, and judging by the rest of the house, it was the only thing that smelled clean there, maybe Bernard had been there before. He ran one of the curtains, leaving the other half of the window uncovered and finally wrapped himself in the sheets, glancing one last time at the room before burying his head in the pillow.

Less than ten minutes had passed when he could feel something was sitting at the foot of his bed, his heart beat heavily in his chest and his drowsy state was gone in an instant. Opening his eyes, he leaned on one elbow.

And there was what he had felt since he had entered the house that day.

 _He_ was sitting at the foot of the bed, his left knee was flexed while his other leg hanging off the bed, both hands on his left leg, his position as calm as his face with fine features, everything adorned with a faint pale moon light.

The ghost continued watching him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Matt finished sitting in bed and gazed him straight in the face, he noticed immediately how the spectrum shoulders tensed.

“Thought you would show up earlier...”

The ghost looked at him with surprise, his silence being part of it, and in a blink, he was gone. The energy that had been all day in that place was gone with him.

 

Something told Matt that his stay in Rye would take longer than planned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! another chapter! thank you so much to those who read the first chapter, it really means a lot to me, thanks :,). soo I was going to put pictures of Matt's house on the first chapter but I forgot! so here they are! : 
> 
> *The House: http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/01934/monk_shouse_1934200i.jpg
> 
> *The Bedroom: http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jpFYIKS33_k/S-6B1UdTjeI/AAAAAAAAA3I/hhHVQpwS9B8/s1600/0120+Virginia+Woolf%27s+bedroom.jpg
> 
> you can see more pictures HERE: http://www.flickr.com/search/?q=monk%27s%20house
> 
> and as you can see, this story is highly inspired by Virginia Woolf :). ok that's it , I really hope you like this chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> ***

 

  
Matt was five when he had seen his first ghost.  
  
It was about 11:35 pm when his grandmother had appeared in his room, he thought she was there visiting him.  
  
 _"You have a gift, my angel... use it well"_ those were the last words of his grandmother just before leaving for forever; five minutes later, a call came from the hospital, announcing that Grandma had died.  
  
At the funeral, he had seen other ghosts but they did not talk to him, the cemetery was full of them, the energy in that place was so overwhelming that he began to cry while embracing his mother's leg; his parents thought it was for Grandma.  
  
He thought that everything would change during his adolescence and that maybe it was just a phase in his childhood. His father said it was because of his extensive imagination, his mother said he was just very sensitive to certain places.  
  
But adolescence was undoubtedly the most difficult stage of his life, his mother had thought that maybe it would be best to study from home, his father refused.  
  
When he got to college, his encounters with ghosts had been reduced to the point of wondering if he still had that ability he had his whole life hiding.  
  
With his graduation from college, came the death of his parents in a tragic car accident, he never got to see their ghosts.  
  
The term _“Medium”_ was a word he considered labeling himself in the past, being the most accurate definition to his ability, but soon he scrapped the idea, hating the idea of comparing himself with Theresa Caputo.  
  
It had been three days since his encounter with the ghost of the house. Sometime during those days he took his luggage to the second floor, had also made a little trip to town to buy some cleaning products, the snuff and dust smell were barely bearable.  
  
It was about eleven when heavy snow had begun to fall; he closed his laptop and checked his watch, in the morning he would have to go to the town for internet connection, He needed to send the article for the next month's edition to his co-worker.  
  
He had almost a week of having reached that place and already felt like a hermit. he wasn’t the most social guy around London but In recent days he had barely initiated a conversation with someone there, only Jessica, the cashier at the 24/7 store when he had gone to buy more stuff yesterday and judging by her interest and enthusiasm when she saw Matt walk through the door, maybe next time she would ask him if he would be interested in going out and have drink at a nearby bar, but Matt just wasn’t interested.  
  
He ran his hand over his face, fatigue had overtaken him, after one last look out the window and noticed that the weather had no intention of changing, he drew the curtains and crawled to the second floor.  
  
The bedroom was cold and once he finished putting on layers of clothing enough to survive the night, slipped between the sheets and let his head fall on the pillow like an iron ball.  
  
He almost could feel his consciousness fade when his bed sank at his feet, so light that he thought he might have imagined it, suddenly all of his exhaustion had vanished and remained perfectly still for a moment, feeling the presence had returned to the room.  
  
 _He’s here._  
  
He felt his heart about to pop out of his throat; it was always the same despite having a lifetime of dealing with beings from another plane of existence. Slowly he leaned on one elbow as he lifted his head to see the ghost.  
  
He was in the same position Matt had seen him for the first time a few days ago, but this time his face looked different. Matt leaned on both hands and ended sitting up on the bed.  
  
He could only hear the strong wind that caused the grind of the windows and the sound of his breathing, the only one in the room.  
  
“Why can you see me?”  
  
He felt his heart skipped a beat as his ears perceived the sound of the unfamiliar voice. The ghost had chosen to simply watch through the window while waiting for a response from Matt.  
  
"It's a skill I've had since I have memory" an ability that he had often considered a curse.  
  
"Why?" This time the spectrum had turned his face toward Matt.  
  
"I have wondered the same" He simply replied, shrugging his shoulders slightly, it was the truth.  
  
Matt had a clearer view of the ghost’s face now. He had short hair, though some long blonde locks were falling on the back of his neck and on his forehead, His eyes were of a color he could not define, his lips were thin but he had strong features. His clothes were just as interesting, making it clear that he belonged to another era, a loose white cotton shirt open a little above the chest that fell loosely over his hands and dark colored tight pants whose material still could not identify.  
  
It was both fascinating and beautiful in a disturbing way  
  
And he almost wanted to punch himself for thinking such a thing of the ghost who was sitting at the feet of his bed in the middle of the night.  
  
Having the ghost of a man who had probably died centuries ago on his bed was the cause of many questions that filled his head.. When he was born? When had he died? How had he died? Had he died in that house? What bound him to this place?.  
  
But he always remembered that ghosts are very sensitive, the slightest thing can disturb them and many of them were aggressive when he had asked them such things, this time he’ll start with something basic.  
  
"What's your name?" he asked calmly, he could feel his heart rate normalize.  
  
The ghost, who had not taken his eyes off him, waited for a moment before answering, maybe it’s been so long since the last time he had spoken with someone, something simple and basic like his name maybe required some meditation.  
  
"Dominic Howard" he answered simply, his voice deep and warm.  
  
He felt goose bumps all over his skin with such insignificant action, maybe it was because he was talking to the ghost of a person who had died centuries ago or it was simply because that ghost was an attractive image for his eyes.  
  
"Matthew " for a second he extended his hand, but dropped it half way, maybe the ghost, Dominic, wouldn’t feel very comfortable with touch.  
  
And apparently Dominic had noticed his intentions because he quickly looked at him confused, passing his gaze from Matt’s face to where his hand now rested.  
  
"I know you have many questions," Dominic suddenly said after a long and uncomfortable silence, again he was looking out the window. "Well, questions do not bother me at all."  
  
“How long have you been here?”  
  
"71 years," he replied without blinking.  
  
"And when did you die?" Matt watched his reaction carefully after asking, nothing happened.  
  
"October 1st, 1942."  
  
He was about to shoot his next question when Dominic suddenly got up from the bed and rested his right shoulder on the window frame, crossing both arms over his chest and looking toward the garden that was probably covered by a thick layer of snow. Matt took a few seconds to appreciate his height, clearly was a bit taller than him.  
  
“How?” Matt asked, trying to keep himself as warm as possible with his sweater.  
  
“I don’t know”  
  
Matt paused in his movements, not understanding very well at first, thinking that maybe the ghost had misunderstood the question or not heard it well, but then he noticed how Dominic had remained intact, with eyes fixed on the window pane watching nothing, and then Matt realized that he had answered his question.  
  
"You don’t know how you died?"  
  
The ghost just shook his head, letting the sound of wind outside fill the silence.  
  
"That's what has kept you tied up here, then" Matt said to himself.  
  
"Tied?"  
  
Matt nodded and found a comfortable position on the bed, sitting Indian style on the bed while searching for the right words to explain it.  
  
"When a person dies and leaves unfinished business here, the spirit can’t rest, remaining tied to this physical plane"  
  
Dominic watched him carefully, nodding slowly to each of his words.  
  
"So ... I've been tied up here for 71 years” muttered the ghost.  
  
Matt nodded, watching him for a moment before looking at his own hands in his lap, not sure if to say what he was about to say.  
  
He was convinced that he would regret it.  
  
"I can help you."  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Here's another Chapter! *kinda short sorry and sorry for the spam* So I made this little playlist with all the songs I listen while writing this fic, hope you like it! http://8tracks.com/take_a_bow06/where-our-worlds-collide

* * *

 

He had spent the morning in the library, looking for old records, news and newspapers of the year 1.942.  
  
  
Nothing.  
  
  
He was in a blind spot, the investigation had been void, as if Dominic had never lived in that place. It was nearly five o'clock when he had left the library, ready to return the next day with the hope of finding something.  
  
Wolstenholme's was a small café just five minutes from the house which he had seen two nights ago and surprised him with the warm and friendly atmosphere of the place. Not to mention the excellent music playing on the speakers located on each corner, good attention from the owner's wife and the exquisite espresso that he had asked to take out as he did not have time that night.  
  
  
"It's good to see you again here," greeted the friendly woman, Kelly was her name.  
  
"I think I fell in love with this place since the first time," Matt said with a smile.  
  
"More customers as friendly as you is what we need," she commented with a smile as she pulled out a small notebook and pencil from her pocket "and what do you want today?"  
  
When he open his email and checked if he had any news of his work, He noticed that he had an email from one of his colleagues, Tom Kirk, after more than seven years working together, Matt consider him more than just a colleague.  
  
  
"Are you still alive?”  
  
- **T.K**  
  
Once Kelly had returned to his table with his order, he began to write his response to his friend, attaching his finished article for the January edition of the magazine. He drank two sips of his coffee when a new mail arrived in his Inbox, Tom apparently was online.  
  
  
 _"Really liked the article, Bellamy, Now I can enjoy the rest of my vacation in peace without having to worry about you!”_  
  
  
Matt smiled and wrote quickly.  
  
  
 _"When have I ever caused you problems?... Still in London? "_  
  
  
 _"I’ll consider change of department, I can’t stand you another year.Yes, the trip to Oxford was canceled, and my girlfriend’s parents want us to spend New Year with them ..."_  
  
  
And for a moment he couldn’t remember what date it was, he had lost track of time, looking at the corner of the screen, he could read that it was nearly half past five in the afternoon of December 23th.  
  
 _"Complaining as always, Kirk."_  
  
  
 _"Spend a day with my in-laws and then tell me if I complain a lot ... and you?  How is…everything?”_  
  
  
 _"The people are friendly, the town is small, and the house is cooler than outside, but not that bad"_  
  
 _"I envy your loneliness, Bellamy, you don't know how  ...I have to go; Emma wants to go out to buy christmas presents. If I don't survive, take care of the dogs, the backup key is under the doormat”_  
  
  
 _"Greetings to Em, I'll write to you in a few days,  I have no internet at home, Merry Christmas"_  
  
 _"Merry Christmas, Bells"_  
  
  
“How was the coffee?” Kelly was back at his table, taking his now empty mug.  
  
“Excellent, thank you” Matt smiled politely to the waitress. “Oh, I almost forgot, you know where I can get records and old news? I tried here at the library but couldn’t find anything.”  
  
“Have you tried in Lewes already?”  
  
“No.” Matt said as he closed his laptop.  
  
“In the 80's, some of the files from Rye were taken to Lewes due to the low capacity of the library here.”  
  
“Oh, that explains everything, then.”  
  
“Try in Lewes; I am sure you will find what you're looking for.” Kelly smiled before saying goodbye and going to serve another table.  
  
  
Unlike previous days since his arrival in Rye, today he could see movement in the streets and shops, reminding him again that in two days it would be Christmas, and he had only an old house and a ghost to keep him company.  
  
He dropped the keys on the small wooden table near the stairs, his laptop and scarf went onto one of the sofas near the window. He noticed something near one of the trees in the backyard.  
  
Dominic was leaning against the tree, his back toward the house and was staring at nothing specific, Matt clung to his coat the best he could, regretting having left his scarf inside. He approached Dominic, imitating the ghost and supporting his left shoulder on the tree trunk.  
  
  
"I thought you’ll visit me later" Matt said almost with a smile. The ghost smiled slightly.  
  
"Technically, it is you who is visiting me."  
  
"Good point." He admitted, shivering as the wind blow. "Why won't we... talk inside?."  He gestured toward the house.  
  
"Sure, I'm sorry." Dominic replied bowing his head slightly, making it clear that his manners did not belong to this period in which they almost none existent.  
  
  
Once inside the house, Matt hastened to light the fire, while Dominic simply rely merely on near a window with his arms crossed over his chest, always distant, as if his mind took him to another place.  
  
Leaving his coat on the couch, Matt went to the kitchen to make some tea and when it was ready, he made his way back to the living room. the ghost was left exactly as he was, untouched by the window, watching as the snow began to fall.  
  
  
"I've been in the library today," Matt said as he took a sip of his tea, taking a seat by the fireplace.  
  
  
Dominic just looked at him without blinking; his arms were crossed over his chest tightly.  
  
  
"And it’s pretty strange I couldn’t find any information about you."  
  
“It’s been a long time since then, you may not find anything.”  
  
"Perhaps, however, I will go to Lewes tomorrow morning, might find something."  
  
  
The ghost nodded, watching him for a moment before returning his gaze to the window. They remained in silence, listening to the wind blowing outside.  
  
  
"In two days it will be Christmas" ... Dominic muttered suddenly, and Matt wasn't sure whether to say something about it or to remain silent.  
  
"I didn’t notice the date until today.” He finally admitted, leaving his mug on the table.  
  
" Can I ask you something?"  
  
"Sure” He reached out and took the mug again, feeling the warmth in is bare hands.  
  
"Why are you here and not with your family celebrating Christmas?"  
  
"I have no family" It had been so long since the last time Matt said that out loud and he had forgotten the feeling of emptiness he felt inside and the lump in his throat.  
  
"Sorry" The ghost looked down, then back the window.  
  
"It’s okay, that was long ago”  
  
"Did you get to see them as you can see me?" Matt shook his head, looking for a second at the mug resting between his hands.  
  
"I've seen spirits for years, the first was my grandmother when I was pretty young and after her.. I haven’t seen the spirit of any family member again."  
  
"Somewhat ironic” Dominic commented, looking at Matt for a few seconds before turning his attention to the window again, Matt got up off the couch and went back to the kitchen.  
  
"Besides ... I can be here and keep you company, right?." He commented, leaning against the wooden archway of the Kitchen door. Dominic looked into his eyes, staring at him for a moment before turning his face to the window completely, nodding almost to himself.  
  
  
Matt couldn’t stop smiling.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

That morning Matt had taken the first train going to Lewes, arriving at the library around 9 a.m. His footsteps caused echoes when he enter the place, carefully observing everything around him as he approached the librarian's desk.

“How can I help you, sir?” the librarian politely asked, he had a tag on his uniform with the name Morgan Nicholls written on it.

“I am looking for files, events, news of any kind, specifically in Rye.”

“What year are you looking for?”

“1942.” Morgan nodded, rising from his seat behind the large wooden desk.

“Follow me, please.” he told Matt with a gesture over his shoulder. Matt followed the man through the silent halls; their steps caused a slight echo in the place. They reached a small door and the librarian took out a small key from the left pocket of his pants, opening the door and leaving it slightly open as he entered; large wooden shelves almost touched the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, could you please repeat again what year you are looking for?”

“1942.”

“Oh, of course,” Morgan said, his fingers searched each row of books of records. “42, here.” he took one of the black books. On the cover, there was a small sticker written **Rye, East Sussex 1942. **

After thanking Morgan, Matt went to one of the empty tables near the large side windows and took off his black jacket, leaving it on the back of the chair. He could not deny that he felt some anxiety; maybe he could get a hint of something that would guide him to what he was looking for, or he would just find the same thing as in Rye, nothing. He sat down and carefully opened the files, ignoring other months and heading straight to October, thoroughly reading the first ten pages of old, yellowish and almost illegible newspaper. News of all kinds kept appearing before his eyes; a fire on a farm that left a tragic result of six dead including the farm owners, an accident in a brick factory, a mother and her newborn killed by the husband. Matt pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing in frustration, feeling a headache beginning to take shape.

Ten pages later and his eyes froze when he read news announced in black uppercase letters, finally feeling he had found what he was looking for.

> October, 4, 1942.
> 
> **Man found dead in River Rother.**
> 
> _"A body was found floating on the River Rother has been identified as a man from London. Two kids who were near the river discovered the body of 30-year-old Dominic James Howard on Monday morning. The county’s medical examiner has suggested his death as suicide since no sign of violence was found."_

His shoulders tensed reading the short story on the yellow paper over and over again. Dominic had probably committed suicide, something that at first Matt had suspected but had rejected it immediately. Feeling a lump in his throat, the mental image suddenly hit him, leaving him almost breathless.

“Found what you wanted, sir?” Matt heard a distant voice asking. He looked up and met Morgan’s eyes watching him while holding a stack of books in his arms.

“Yes, yes indeed... Do you have more information about this case?” he point at the little piece of paper.

“I doubt it, sir. I fear that what is in the book is all what we have.”

“Do you know where I can get more of this kind of information?” Matt asked, showing his anxiety.

“I would say in the Police Department, maybe they have more information about it.” Matt nodded, watching the yellow newsprint that he had read the news about Dominic.

“Can I have a copy of this?”

“Of course, sir.”

 

***

As soon as he entered the Police Department, Matt could see the desert that was the place. Even so, the officer asked him to wait for half an hour. In the meanwhile, he caught the sound of a phone ringing in the distance, looked at his watch for the third time since he had come to the police station and noticed it was nearly 2 p.m.

“This way, sir.” a voice abruptly took him out from his thoughts.“The sheriff will assist you right now.”

Without wasting more time, Matt followed the man and went to the Sheriff's office. The officer knocked on the door and after a reply, he opened the door, enough to allow Matt walk inside. The Sheriff was a man apparently about 60 years old, gray haired, wrinkles around his blue eyes and a friendly smile on his face.

“Come in, have a seat.” said the Sheriff, pointing at the seat in front of his desk. “What can I do for you…?” he prolonged, obviously uncertain on how to complete the question since he didn’t know Matt’s name.

“Matthew Bellamy,” he approached and shook hands with the Sheriff, sitting where the older man had indicated him. “I'm working on an investigation and I wanted to know if I could have access to certain information.”

“What kind of information?” asked the Sheriff. Matt pulled out the copy of the news he had taken in the library.

“I need to know more about this case.”

“1942? Well, not very often someone asks for something like that, son.” the man responded willingly, taking a bunch of keys from his desk as he rose from his seat. “Of course I can help you.”

They walked down a narrow corridor until they reached a wooden door with a sign that reads that authorized personnel only was allowed to enter. The Sheriff opened the door and turned on the light, gesturing to Matt to follow him into the room. It was a small room with a desk next to the wall; the rest of the place was full of file cabinets sorted next to each other. The Sheriff went to one of the cabinets and began to scrutinize it to find what he wanted, pulling out just a yellow folder.

“This is the only report of the case we have." said the old man as he handed Matt the folder he had found. Matt nodded, taking the folder in his hands almost eagerly, leaving it on the desk and opened it slowly, only to let his eyes carefully read every word written on the old and yellow paper.

Dominic James Howard, born in April 12, 1912, London, who had been living in Rye for six months before his death and his neighbours had reported his disappearance days ago. On the morning of October 4, two kids from the town found a dead body in the river Rother. The corpse had the same features given by their neighbours and people who knew the man, starting from his physical description to the clothes that he was wearing the last time he had seen alive. The reasons of his death are still unknown, he didn’t show any signal of violence and post-mortem clinical investigation hadn’t found any vestige of poisoning, what made the investigators conclude that it was a suicide case. The body was taken to London after the autopsy.

That was all.

That was what he had been looking for all these days; just basic information without explanation or details, Dominic was just one of many unsolved cases forgotten in time.

_Why had Dominic decided to commit suicide?_

“Thanks for letting me read this.” Matt cleared his throat. Breathing deeply, he closed the yellow folder and handed it back to the Sheriff.

"I hope that works for you in your research.”

After thanking and saying goodbye to the Sheriff, Matt made his way back to the train station. Something clicked in his mind suddenly on his way back to Rye; Dominic knew it all this time, and yet, he had chosen to lie.

_Why?_

He took a taxi outside the station, and during the short trip, he tried not to make eye contact with the driver; not because he didn’t want to speak, which in part was true, but by the ghost of his dead mother sitting on the passenger seat. She was watching the man while driving and, judging by the small photography that Matt had noticed on the dashboard, the woman had died a few years ago.

When the car stopped in front of Matt’s house, he just paid without saying anything. The driver smiled at him, shortly, and from the corner of his eye, Matt could see the ghost of the old woman looking at him; he did not look back. A single ghost in his life was enough to deal at the time. The cold hit his face as he walked to the door, his heart pounding in his chest, thinking all the possible ways to confront the ghost that was waiting inside the house.

The silence was all Matt heard when he closed the door behind him. He left his jacket on the couch and a strange feeling of emptiness invaded every corner of the house, without his presence, without creaking stairs, without anything.

 

Dominic had disappeared.


	5. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: A short Interlude, Dom's POV. [Dominic's Journal].

****

**_September 27, 1942._ **

_I cannot believe you're gone; my heart refuses to believe it. But I know it's true. I knew it when you said goodbye to me with a smile and a kiss full of promises. You whispered you were coming back to me as soon as the war was over; you left with your backpack to the battlefield that would be your own grave. I cry myself to sleep every night; I never imagined a life without you._

_Without you I am nothing._

 

⋆⋆⋆

**_September, 30, 1942_ **

_I never imagined doing something like this; it is the only way to escape from this hell I've been living since your death. I know you will be sad for what I am about to do, but it is the only escape I have found._

_No time to hesitate, I feel as if the river was waiting for me for a long time._

 

⋆⋆⋆

**_October, 1, 1942._ **

_This is the last time I feel something. I try to remember our time together and I can see your beautiful face, your warm smile and your strong hands; the first time we talked in that bar, the first time you kissed me and that time we made love in my room._

_Those memories will die with me._


	6. Chapter 6

_ _

_ "‘Cause you’re a hard soul to save with an ocean in the way but I’ll get around it."   
_

 

  
  
It had been three days since the last time he had seen Dominic.  
  
Matt had spent those days trying to summon him, calling him in every corner of the house, looking for him in the courtyard when the evening fell, waiting in his room when midnight approached; but Dominic did not appear at any time.  
  
There were several times during those days when he found himself paying attention to every sound in that old house – every time when the wooden stairs cracked or when the bedroom door closed because of the wind – but deep down, he knew it wasn’t Dominic.  
  
He thought that, perhaps, the ghost had decided to leave with no warning of farewell.  
  
That day was just long and boring, like the three previous ones. At some point Matt had gone to town to buy some things to eat – almost ignoring the friendly cashier who had greeted him warmly when he had crossed the door of the shop – taking only what he needed and leaving without saying goodbye.  
  
The rest of the day – after receiving a call from Bernard to schedule a meeting on the following morning – was spent by Matt’s attempts to try to entertain himself with something, anything; he needed to keep his mind focused on something else until the end of his stay there. He took a quick shower and then found something to read from the extensive library of his uncle, as he had done the night before. He looked for something boring enough to make him fall asleep almost immediately.  
  
Matt took the first book that his eyes caught sight of, a blue one with yellowish pages – one of them was folded inside the book and, right in the middle of it, there was a passage that caught his attention:  
  
“What is the meaning of life? That was all – a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.”.  
  
He had just read a few pages when he began to feel his eyes closing involuntarily. He finally shut the book, left it on the nightstand next to his bed, and then tucked himself between the sheets.  
  
Something told him that it had not been so long since he had closed his eyes and had surrendered to fatigue. Matt could feel the skin of his neck bristling as his breath quickened and, despite his drowsy state, he could feel that presence invaded the room slowly.  
  
He had returned.  
  
Matt took a deep breath, keeping his eyes shut and both hands under the pillow, feeling the mattress sinking slowly – but not as it had been in the previous encounters with the ghost; Dominic had always chosen to sit at his feet – this time, he could feel his presence closer to the side of his bed. Closer to his back.  
  
They were silent. Matt’s breathing mingled with the sound of the wind outside.  
  
“I knew you'd find out about that.”  Muttered the ghost.  
  
“You knew it all this time.” Matt whispered.  
  
Everything was silent again. Despite he remained lying on his side with his back to Dominic, Matt could still feel him there, sitting on the edge of the bed. He just waited.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Then Matt moved, pulling the covers away and opting for a sitting position, staring at the ghost for the first time in three days. Dominic was with both of his legs hanging over the edge of the bed, his hands folded on his lap and staring at nothing in particular in the darkness of the room.  
  
“Have you ever done something crazy for love, Matthew?”  
  
Matt looked at him confused, not understanding very well Dominic’s words when they left his lips, suddenly feeling a lump in his throat, nodding slowly in an attempt to encourage the ghost to continue.  
  
“I lost the person I loved in the war and I could not do anything to save him, I could not imagine living without him.” Dominic said in a mere whisper, looking at Matt in the same way he did the first time they spoke. Cold, untrusting, confused.  
  
He was scared.  
  
“I thought it would be over when I dove into the icy water of that river, I thought that the suffering and the pain would just stop; but they did not. I guess this is my punishment.”  
  
Matt approached Dominic, sitting next to him and trying to find the right words as he clung to his sweater.  
  
"There was nothing you could do, the war ended with many lives."  
  
"I should have told him to stay, but I didn’t ..."  
  
“You need to forgive yourself, Dominic.” Matt explained, his voice remained calm. “It’s the only way to free your soul.”  
  
This time Dominic looked at him straight in the eye, fear painting his stormy grey orbs.  
  
"I am afraid, Matthew." he only whispered.  
  
He knew it better than anyone did. It was always the same and Dominic was not the only one; the fear of crossing to the other side was always present in all the ghosts with whom Matt had spoken over his life.  
  
"What will happen to me, then?”  
  
“That's the big surprise that awaits us all from the moment we are born.” Matt smiled slightly, trying to sound hopeful. He did not want to think about what had tormented him so many times throughout his life.  
  
It was written on his face, shining in his eyes, his lips moved then. After some silence, he could barely perceive.  
  
 _Resignation._  
  
“Everything was different before… Before you.” Dominic’s eyes suddenly met his gaze again.  
  
His heart thudded in his chest, trying to process the words that the ghost had said to him. Dominic leaned closer, his eyes examining every inch of his face. The faint silver light coming through the window was all that lit the room, the white of his shirt stood in the dark.  
  
His face was so beautiful under the pale moonlight.  
  
With only inches separating their faces, Matt could see details that had previously passed unnoticed. Such as the almost invisible freckles adorning Dominic’s nose and part of his cheeks – which at that distance, he could compare as a small constellation jumping before his eyes – accentuating his lips and nose in a beautiful and almost poetic way and he could not resist the urge to touch him.  
  
Matt’s fingers itched with that thought. His hand rose impulsively and, within seconds, his fingertips were about to touch the ghost’s face, who was clearly showing an expression of pure confusion.  
  
He felt Dominic's jaw tensing beneath his fingers, his grey eyes widened in surprise, but despite that, Matt didn’t stop. He let his restless, eager fingers explore more of the soft skin under them as he felt his chin, his cheek.  
  
He noticed as Dominic imitated him, bringing his right hand to his face, freezing just before his thumb reached his skin. He drew a smooth line horizontally on his cheek, and then he stroked the back of his hand over his face.  
  
“How can you… Touch me?” Whispered the ghost.  
  
“It's part of my skill.”  
  
Soon, he felt the fingers of Dominic’s left hand reaching his lips, slowly stroking his thumb on his lower lip, separating it from the upper one, slightly. Matt was exposed before those grey eyes that did not leave his in any moment.  
  
Dominic had existed.  
  
He once had hot blood flowing through his veins, a heart beating in his chest and a mind filled with images of a future that he would never see. Those eyes, which now could be defined certainly as gray, his blond and rebellious hair, his full lips and charming smile had existed.  
Matt’s breathing was shaky as his lips touched the ghost’s; his skin crawled when he felt his fingers clinging to his hair, and his heart almost abandoned his chest when he realized how real it felt.  
  
Matt stood still when Dominic’s lips did not react to the touch of his; he would immediately move away, but he could feel how the ghost’s hand was still holding him firmly by the neck. Dominic’s lips parted against his, slowly, as if he was memorizing the feel of his mouth. Matt could feel the ghost’s fingers slowly massaging the skin of the back of his neck. He let out a shaky breath, feeling when Dominic tilted his head slowly to the right. His lips were still quiet.  
  
“I wanted to feel you since you came to this house.”  
  
Matt did not answer; there was no need to. He let his fingers caress the skin of Dominic’s neck, letting his hand go down on his chest.  
  
Dominic was the first one to move his lips, softly taking Matt’s lower lip between his, tasting and feeling it before releasing it again. He repeated the motion over and over again and he couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped his lips when he felt their tongues touching slowly.  
  
The kiss was harmless, innocent and the most beautiful he had ever had.  
  
He could feel his skin, but not its heat; he could feel his lips but not his taste and he could feel his chest but no heart beating there.


	7. Chapter 7

 

He knew it was morning when he felt the heat of the sun breaking through the curtains, but he did not know what time it was. He shifted on the bed, listening only to the sound of the covers. He was lying on his right side while trying to plunge back into the realm of dreams, but he couldn’t. He felt that someone was watching him.  
  
He opened his eyes, surprised to see the clarity that filled the room, eyes narrowed in an attempt to focus his gaze on the face of the man who was lying beside him. Dominic smiled warmly, his grey eyes wandered slowly on inch part of Matt’s face.

  
“Morning."  
  
"Good Morning, Matthew.” was his answer, his smile became wider.  
  
Both remained in the same position for a long time, letting the room fill with the sound of birds and Matt’s breathing.  
  
"Why are you looking me like that?" Matthew asked.  
  
“I cannot stop watching your beautiful eyes and your thin lips."

  
Matt chuckled as he covered his face with one hand; he knew he did not look exactly like a Greek god in the morning, but Dominic apparently thought the opposite as he took his hand out of his face. Matt felt the hair of his neck stood up when Dominic touched him again, remembering what had happened the night before.  
  
When his eyes met again with Dominic’s, Matt could feel the hand of the ghost did not neglect his, letting them fall intertwined in the mattress.  
  
"How was everything when you were...”  
  
"Alive?” Dominic asked and Matt nodded, still staring at their intertwined hands.  
  
Dominic watched him with a calm expression on his face, and for a second, Matt wondered if Dominic was the same tormented ghost from last night.  
  
"It was dull and calm and I was full of dreams. Until the war.”  
  
"Sorry, I didn’t want to…"  
  
" No, it's ok, Matthew," Dominic answered, still smiling "I left London when I was 23, I lived in Ireland for a while and when I returned I decided to live in a small place. I thought Rye was the perfect place for a young writer."  
  
"Were you a writer?" asked Matt.  
  
"I was just a beginner," he shrugged, pondering his words carefully. "Erik, he used to say that I had a talent with the words."  
  
"How was he?" Matt was surprised when the words left his lips.  
  
"He was a good man, very passionate with everything, with life…” the ghost smiled in a nostalgic way.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"No, don’t be," Dominic took his hand, squeezing it gently and then bring it to his lips; Matt shuddered at the soft touch and their eyes met again. “Do you have a lover, Matthew?”  
  
“It’s difficult to maintain a relationship when someone has abilities like mine,” he chuckled, watching how Dominic gently kissed the back of his hand again.  
  
“Sounds difficult.” he murmured.  
  
“It is...” Matt said as he slowly stroked Dominic's face with his fingertips.  
  
Both remained like that for a moment and only silence filled the room. Matt closed his eyes when he felt Dominic's fingers caressing his cheekbone, descending slowly to his lips.  
  
“It's been so long since the last time I felt someone this way.” the ghost said almost in a whisper.  
  
“But now you’re not alone anymore.” Matt opened his eyes again, watching the ghost lying by his side with his head on the pillow.  
  
“Not forever.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Dominic moved closer, his grey eyes never left Matt’s.  
  
“Can I kiss you again, Matthew?” he asked softly, letting his thumb caressing his lips.  
  
“Of course you can.” Matt took a deep and shaky breath, closing his eyes slowly, feeling how everything around him disappeared.  
  
He could feel his lips meeting the ghost’s as soon as he closed his eyes; this kiss was different from the innocent and almost shy one they had shared last night.  
  
Matt had always thought that there were not such a thing like soul mates, that it was a simple fantasy that those who couldn’t find the love of their lives would say. Matt did not believed in soul mates…  
  
Until _now._  
  
Throughout his life, he had been with different people and in different relationships, but none of them had managed to ignite that flame which he believed nonexistent; that only the touch of the soul mate can achieve... That only Dominic could achieve.  
  
Their tongues played with the need to feel that they belonged to each other. A soft moan escaped from his lips when he felt Dominic’s hand slid beneath the fabric of his sweater, stroking the soft and warm skin of his chest.  
  
A knock at the door was enough to make him jump out his bed, pushing aside the sheets; in a matter of seconds, Dominic was standing beside the bed. Matthew looked at Dominic and tried to calm his breathing when he heard another knock at the door.  
  
"Who is it?" Dominic asked. Matt headed quickly to the door of the bedroom.  
  
"It’s Bernard. I’ve forgotten I had a meeting with him today," Matt answered before leaving the room and heading towards the stairs.

  
A third knock on his door and Matt was in front of it, opening it quickly to meet the old man.  
  
"Matthew, nice to see you again!” greeted Bernard with a smile that made the wrinkles around his eyes become more noticeable.  
  
"Same here Bernard. Please, come in,” Matt turned away from the door, stepping aside and inviting the man to enter his house.  
  
After closing the door, he went to the kitchen to boil water for tea; Bernard took a seat in the living room, taking off his gloves and scarf.  
  
"What do you think of your stay here so far?” Matt heard the old man asking willingly.  
  
“Very calm and relaxing, just what I needed for a long time." that was not entirely true, he had spent all his days off researching about a person who had died in the 40’s.  
  
He took two mugs out of the kitchen cabinet as he finished the tea. When he came out of the kitchen, he found Bernard sitting near the fireplace and reviewing what he suspected that were the ownership documents of the house and the testament. He stopped on his tracks instantly when he saw Dominic leaning against a wall near one of the windows, watching the old man attentively, then Matt remembered that he was the only one who could see the ghost.  
  
“Oh, thank you very much." Bernard thanked when Matt gave him a cup of steaming tea.  
  
Matt sat down on the recliner in front of Bernard, with his back to Dominic, avoiding looking at him during his meeting – he knew that if he’d sat in a place where he could see the ghost, he would not focus on the documents.  
  
"I have brought the latest documents," commented Bernard after taking a short sip of tea. "I have taken the liberty of making a third document; since from the beginning you made it clear that you wanted to sell the house.”  
  
Matt nodded slowly, still holding his cup of tea in his hands. After all, not only that house had belonged to his uncle, Dominic had lived there too.  
  
“Do you still want to sell it?" he listened Bernard asking again, but the old man soon noticed that Matt was still silent.  
  
Matt wouldn’t see Dominic again if he sells the house.  
  
"I know what you're thinking, Matthew," this time it wasn’t Bernard speaking. Dominic's voice had sounded calm and deep, and for a second, he had to look at Bernard to make sure he hadn’t heard the ghost. "This is not my home, not anymore."  
  
Matt opened his mouth to answer, but had to close it immediately; Bernard gave him a worried look when he remained silent.  
  
"Yes, I will sell the house. I was just thinking to keep it for a while, you know, like a vacation house, but I think it is a good idea to sell it." Matt babbled, bringing the cup to his lips and taking a long sip of his tea.  
  
Bernard smiled, nodding as he took a folder and passed it to Matthew. That was the contract where Bernard, as a lawyer of his uncle, was responsible for selling the property and in return got 15% as profit. Matt nodded, leaving the paper on the table between them.  
  
“Do you have a pen?” he asked as he set the cup aside.  
  
Bernard checked the pockets of his coat until he found one. Matt read the document quickly a second time and when he was sure that everything was in order, he signed without hesitation.  
  
Matt could feel that Dominic was still there. During all his meeting with Bernard, he had felt him moving around the house, through the kitchen and then returning to his place near the window –  but he did not speak again. The rest of the meeting went fast, and both were in agreement that as soon as Matt returned to London they would be in contact regarding the sale.  
  
“Then you are returning to London in the coming days." Bernard commented as he put on his coat again.  
  
"In two days, to be exact.” Matt said as he took the two cups and returned to the kitchen to leave them in the sink.  
  
"Preparing for New Year’s eve?” Bernard asked as he walked to the door.  
  
“Something like that," Matt smiled, shrugging his shoulders and looking furtively around, searching for the ghost. Apparently, Dominic got bored during their meeting and Matt now could not see him anywhere.  
  
“Enjoy the rest of your stay here, then.” The older man smiled as he walked out the front door" I will be calling in the next few days."  
  
He rested his back against the door once it was closed, watching the rest of the house. From the corner of his eyes, Matt could see a figure standing in the middle of the stairs. Dominic gave him a smile when their eyes met.  
  
"I think I will go back to bed..." Matt said as he started walking up the stairs, feeling his left hand brushing against Dominic’s when he passed him. "Make me company?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: So..we're almost at the end of this journey! this chapter is special so i really hope you like it, also it would be lovely if you listen to this song while reading the chapter.♥ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a3jpy1OzWg8

 

What happens after death?

He recalled for a moment the many times he wondered such a question, but never found the answer.

The souls go to somewhere; but where exactly do they go? According to common belief, they are going to heaven or hell. The theory that our souls, after separating from the body that tied them in this physical world, went to heaven or hell was something he had tried to process and believe over the years, but he couldn’t.

And what happens then if the souls are not going anywhere? What if they just disappear? Will they just vanish as if they had never existed?

Maybe it was all black at the end of the tunnel after all.

It was the afternoon of his last day in Rye and he was packing up the rest of his clothes in his second bag. The snow had cleared out a little at mid-morning and the garden was lit by faint rays of sun that caused the rest of the snow to shine like small crystals.

That day, Dominic had not appeared yet.

In recent days, his relationship with the ghost had changed in a way that he hadn’t planned. They had talked about everything and nothing and both avoided talking about the day Matt had to leave the house.

Matt took his plaid pajamas pants and bent it to the side of his luggage. He got up from the bed and stood in front of the small shelf of books at the head of the bed; he had decided to sell the house with all the furniture, although at the last minute he had decided to take some books with him.

Three dusty books rested on his hands when a soft melody began to play on the floor below. Matt left the books on the bed and headed to the stairs. As he descended the steps, the music became familiar, recognizing it almost immediately when he was standing at the foot of the stairs.

Dominic was standing with his back to Matt, his hands were on either side of his body and his head bowed slightly, watching the old turntable on a small table under the window.

"Your uncle used to listen to this song every night when he was reading." commented Dominic suddenly. His voice was calm and quiet as well as the music.

Matt smiled and walked slowly when Dominic had turned to see him, his eyes were shining with something different, something that he couldn’t read at the moment.

"Clair de Lune is one of my favorite songs by Debussy."

"And now that you mention it..." the ghost smiled warmly, extending his left hand as he said. "Will you... Dance with me?"

“Dance?" Matt didn’t know how to answer such a request. "I'm clumsy with my feet, you know?" He chuckled.

"I've waited a long time to dance with somebody," Dominic smiled with his still outstretched hand. "My request is still intact, Matthew."

Matt extended his right hand, allowing his fingers to intertwine seamlessly between Dominic’s, feeling the ghost circling his waist, his hand resting on Matt’s back.

Something clicked in his mind as his eyes met Dominic’s, letting everything around him disappear and feeling his heart sank as they danced.

He remembered that time, when he was still in college; having read a theory that caught his attention.

Plato had a theory. It says that a long time ago, the gods created the perfect being – it had four hands, four legs, two faces and one head – these beings wanted to fight the gods and so they were punished, being separated in two. After the splitting, each half struggled to find its other half and, when they met, they embraced with a burning desire to return to his old form, wanting to return to perfection. This is what we know as love.

Deep inside, Matt could feel how his soul was synchronized with Dominic’s in a way that couldn’t be explained with simple words; he could only feel his heart beating desperate in his chest as his feet moved slowly on the old wooden floor.

He had found his soul mate in the wrong _time._

"You are doing it well," commented Dominic after a brief silence.

"I don’t believe you, but thanks." Matt laughed nervously.

Then his eyes met Dominic’s, who was watching him with a smile that could not be deciphered. Matt’s heart leapt in his chest suddenly, in that moment he understood. They were silent, slowly dancing to the gentle song, ignoring the time and place, ignoring everything around them, ignoring everything that divided them.

"Thank you..." whispered the ghost.

Matt remained in silence, nodding slowly, feeling how a lump in his throat was beginning to form.

"It's time, isn’t it?" he dared to ask.

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"I’m not afraid anymore."

His movements stopped slowly, now they were just standing facing each other. Matt watched him with a sad smile, letting his left hand to touch Dominic’s face as he had done many times in the last days.

He would disappear.

"I guess this is the end, then," Matt muttered, letting his fingers trace invisible lines on the ghost’s face.

"No, not yet."

Their lips met again; it was the last time he would feel those lips on his, it was the last time he would feel Dominic's golden hair between his fingers. Suddenly, he could feel like Dominic’s thumbs traced soft lines on his cheekbones; Matt had not noticed that when he had begun to cry.

“Will you remember me?"

"Every day, always." he smiled and felt more tears streaming down his face.

Dominic smiled, his eyes never leaving Matt’s. Letting his thumb caress for one last time Matt’s thin lips as he leaned in again, kissing him on the cheek this time, Matt closed his eyes, absorbing the moment with every particle of his body.

After a moment, Matt took a deep breath before opening his eyes again, this time he was standing in the middle of the living room in complete solitude. The music was over and the silence was now filling every corner of the house.

He's gone…

He's free.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it! the final chapter is here! *after a few months, sorry* special thanks to Samantha, love you, girl! <3 see you all soon!

April, 12.

 

Have you ever thought that… maybe you were born in the wrong time?

 

It had been raining all day and it was the second time he fell asleep on his desk, had slept very little last night, staying up until he’d almost seen the sunlight creeping through the curtains, finishing editing the article that was due next month. After checking his Gmail account, finishing writing a couple of emails and checking his watch, he decided it was time to leave.

"Leaving early today? " Tom asked as he sat on his desk and crossed both arms over his chest.

“Fortunately, yes," Matt replied with a tired smile as he ordered some papers in a yellow folder.

“Lucky for you, tomorrow is Saturday and can sleep until 12.”

"I'm not that lazy, Tom." Matt chuckled as he settled his coat, he could see a few drops hitting the window of his office.

“Hey, do you want to go out for a drink? I’ll be out in a few minutes, you can wait a little more if you want. "

And there was his friend and colleague, trying to get him out of his routine and boring life, it wasn’t the first time that Tom was trying to make him socialize more, saying that «he need to act a little more like someone of his age». Deep down, Matt appreciated said gesture of his friend.

"Sure!" he replied, trying to look excited about the idea of going out drinking with his friend on a Friday night. “I need to do something first, but then we can go for that drink.”

"I know it's not your style to go to bars and drink until pass out, which is not bad from time to time, but maybe you need a drink…or two.”

Tom stared at him carefully.

“Look, if you want to talk about something that is tormenting you, you can trust me, you know?" Tom shrugged as he inspected his fingernails, trying not to look so sentimental.

"I know, and thank you, Tom, really." He smiled, placing his messenger bag on his right shoulder.

It was not often the moments that he had this kind of conversation with Tom, and Matt wanted to talk about all the torments of his life with someone instead of swallowing everything in silence, but, after all, he was not like everyone.

"12 A? What's this?" Tom 's voice took him out of his thoughts again, watching as his friend held a small reminder note between his fingers.

"It's...something special," Matt only replied with a smile as he snatched the little yellow paper from his friend’s hand.

"Mysterious as always, Bellamy," Tom said with a smile as he shook his head.

"I'll see you later." Matt giggled and headed off to the office.

 

Outside, the rain had stopped.

 

******************* 

 

It was about four in the afternoon when he crossed the main entrance of the cemetery. The energy in that place was always overwhelming and the souls of any age were seen wandering among the tombstones, confused, sad, and lost. Moreover, many souls preferred to remain in this world, the idea of leaving something that they know for something totally unknown was terrifying even after death.

It had been a while since the last time Matt had been there, he could even count the times he had visited the grave of his parents, the mixture of all kinds of energy and emotions left him a number of side effects to deal with in the following days.

But today was a special day.

His eyes roamed each headstone, reading each one carefully to find what he was looking for so desperately.

There was a big old tree right next to the headstone that was worn by the passage of time. Despite that, he could read clearly;

 

Here Lies  
Dominic James Howard  
Born April 12, 1912  
Died October 1, 1942

 

He sighed as his eyes finished reading, processing everything.

"I know this will seem somewhat corny but... it's your special day, you know?" He said as he held a small bouquet of white roses in his left hand. “Happy birthday, Dominic.”

He placed the flowers on the headstone, letting his fingers caress each recorded letter in the cold gray stone.

He was not there, only his remains, just the only thing that once bound him to this world. He was free now.

“It's weird to come here and talk and not hear your voice," he sighed as those words left his lips.

Matt could see the ghost of a woman walking aimlessly between statues of two crying angels, a man looking at the sky without showing any feelings, and a child running among the graves.

“I miss you and remember you every day.” He watched his feet, feeling the knot formed in his throat as his eyes were about to betray him and let the tears out. “But now you’re free”

He closed his eyes, trying to feel something, anything, apart from all the other spirits presences.

But nothing happened.

"I have to go now or my friend Tom will kill me."

He smiled sadly as he settled his messenger bag over his shoulder. He touched the top of the tombstone, feeling how a new energy invaded his senses, an energy that he could not explain.

After a last look, Matt started walking to the exit when the cold wind blow gently on his face, causing him to stop in his steps abruptly.

He could feel him in the air, he could feel him everywhere.

Dominic’s soul had not gone; he was still there, in every breath, in every moment, in every memory.

"I'm sure we'll meet again someday."

Now he was smiling, looking at the sky and letting his eyes get lost in it. Feeling how a raindrop fell and caressed his lips.

He was sure that someone was smiling back at him.


End file.
